


The Best People He Knows

by wolfish_willow



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, I just needed Steve to get some love from someone okay, Post-Season/Series 02, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington-centric, but it's okay he gets a couple, do not copy to another site, idk what this is, it just is, it's not really fluff but it's not angst or h/c, who better to do it than Dustin and his mom?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfish_willow/pseuds/wolfish_willow
Summary: Steve doesn't just drive Dustin to the dance. He comes over to help with Dustin's hair first (and gets some hugs while he's there)."'Are you sure we have enough time?' Dustin asks, his voice urgent, not unlike how he sounded back when he convinced Steve to help him track down his demo-dog. Not that Steve blames him.School dances are harder to navigate than just about anything, including the Upside Down."





	The Best People He Knows

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Steve Harrington week 2019. Day 2, Dynamics. Didn't finish nearly in time, but it's finally ready! 
> 
> Unbeta'd, so sorry about any typos! You're welcome to let me know if you catch any so I can fix it! I really hope everybody enjoys this. I'm really excited to share it!

Steve can't say he's ever wanted a younger sibling. He definitely never spent a majority of his time, sitting alone in an empty house, thinking about having someone else around while his parents were out of town.

Maybe it's crossed his mind. Once or twice.

He tries not to let it bother him. His parents already can't deal with him. It wouldn't be right or fair to wish them on another kid. He figures they only had him because that is what couples are supposed to do after they get married. Buy a house - practically a mansion compared to the rest of the homes in Hawkins - and have a kid. Showing him off at dinner parties always seemed to make them happy, make them look good.

They don't show him off anymore. There isn't much to be proud of when his only notable achievements are things they aren't legally allowed to know about. As far as they know, all he's good at is basketball - and even that has gradually gone away since Hargrove moved to town.

Not that they know or care. Neither of them show up for any of his games, not since he had first joined the team (and he isn't entirely sure the hazy memories of his mom cheering him on in the stands are real or if he thought about them hard enough they started feeling that way).

Still, considering everything in his life up to this point it's probably a blessing to be an only child.

Who cares if he will never have someone look at him the way Will does at Jonathon? Or someone to worry about the way Nancy would never admit she does over Mike. It must take a lot of energy, feel like a lot of pressure and high school is hard enough without it.

But apparently _he_ cares because the look on Dustin's face when Steve actually shows up to help with his hair for the Snow Ball almost has him tripping over himself on his way in.

"Hey shi--kid," he says, hoping Mrs. Henderson didn't notice.

"Steve, honey, come in!"

Mrs. Henderson stands up so fast he twitches, worried she might fall over. She has the same boundless energy as her son - or, Steve supposes, he inherited the same energy from his mom. It's new to Steve, who is more used to the Mr. and Mrs. Wheelers of the world.

She wastes no time, pulling him in for a hug the moment she's in reach. The gesture still manages to surprise him, despite it being her standard greeting every time Dustin convinces him to come over. Her hold is firm, but gentle, as though he is as bruised as he'd been when they visited him in the hospital. It should bother him, he thinks. He's too old for hugs in general, but especially mom-hugs.  
  
They don't, though. Bother him. The last year his only source of hugs - or any real physical contact outside of basketball - has been Nancy. With how their relationship played out after Halloween - bullshit, bullshit, _bullshit_ \- that is no longer happening. Even weeks later, with the Gate closed and his injuries healed, he still feels the ache of that loss keenly. Some nights his skin feels too tight, stretched too thin over useless muscle and easily broken bones.

When Mrs. Henderson wraps her arms around him and pulls him close it's like releasing the tension of a tightly wound rubber band. He melts into her every time. Maybe that is pathetic, definitely is, but the only other person around to see it is Dustin. He never says anything, never acts like Steve is anything less than cool.

"How are you feeling, honey?" she asks - _honey_, he is always _honey_ to her - pulling away, hands rubbing up and down his arms like he might be cold.

"Good Mrs. H," he says, shrugging at her pointed look. Maybe one day he will feel comfortable calling her by her first name. For now, this is as informal as he can let himself talk to her.

"The cold isn't bothering you? I'm sure we've got an extra coat somewhere."

"Honestly, I'm fine. It's not all that cold out. No aches, promise."

Even if the temperature drops outside, it must be impossible to be cold in the Henderson home.

"If you're sure."

She lets go of him, but he still feels the echo of her touch. It leaves a warm trail around his back where her arms rested.

"Well, I'll let you and Dusty get ready. Just shout if you need anything."

Dustin grabs his arm with a smile.

"Sure thing. Come on, Steve."

"I'm coming, jeez," he says, giving a sheepish shrug in Mrs. Henderson's direction before he is tugged along. "You know, I like my arm just like it is. Attached to the rest of me."

The soft, even a little fond, tone of voice does nothing to slow the kid down.

"Are you sure we have enough time?" Dustin asks, his voice urgent, not unlike how he sounded back when he convinced Steve to help him track down his demo-dog. Not that Steve blames him.

School dances are harder to navigate than just about anything, including the Upside Down.

"Relax, squirt. We've got plenty of time. You got the stuff?"

He snorts at the brown paper back that is shoved in his direction.

"Shut up, you're the one who doesn't want anyone else to know your hair care routine."

He has a point.

"Whatever. It looks like you're trying to hide some explicit --"

"Do you mean illicit?"

"Tomato, potato," he graciously ignores the way Dustin mouths his words back to himself. He looks more confused than Steve has ever seen him. It's ridiculous and he does his best to keep his laughter to himself. "Still looks like you've got some kid-sized booze in there."

He grabs the bag, opening it to reveal a couple cans of the same hair spray he keeps in his own bathroom - under the sink because he doesn't need the lecture from his dad the few times a year his parents _are_ home.

The can rattles in his hand, loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"Let's do this thing."

*

Steve combs his fingers through Dustin's damp hair. The curls are there to stay, but he doesn't seem worried about it. He's more focused on asking question after question.

_"Why does damp work better than wet?"_

_"How many brands did you go through before you found this one?"_

_"Is 4 puffs enough?"_

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Trust me, man. If there's one thing I know, it's how to make stubborn hair do what I want."

Dustin's shoulders slump as he lets out a sigh. His head twitches under Steve's hand. Thankfully he catches himself before ruining all of their work with an ill-timed nod.

It hits Steve, then. Smacks him in the face with all the force of a plate to his head.

This is his first time teaching someone anything. Ever. In eighteen years, he's never done anything like this. He had given him some advice that day while trying to lure D'art out, but. It wasn't the best advice. Thankfully Dustin understood that even before he came back to apologize for giving it in the first place.

This, though. This is different. New.

It feels good.

"Steve?"

Blinking, the world comes back into focus around him. He meets Dustin's eyes, eyebrows drawn up in question, in the mirror.

"Sorry," he says, sliding his fingers through the curls one last time. He smiles. It grows wider when he sees the final product, proud of what they've accomplished.

Dustin looks at himself in the mirror. Steve will deny it if anyone asks, but he's tense waiting for a reaction.

Of course, this is Dustin - the kid who has probably never found anything he can't be enthusiastic about.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Woah, language, man. Don't let your mom think you picked that up from me."

"Says the guy who calls me shithead constantly?"

"It's how I show affection. Shithead."

"Whatever, she'd forgive you. You're her new favorite."

His face goes hot all of a sudden. Warmth pools in his chest, slowly spreads through the rest of him.

"Shut up, I am not."

Somehow even without tearing his eyes off his reflection, Dustin rolls his head and shoulders in a way that clearly means, _idiot_.

He is such a little shit.

Steve kind of loves it.

A knock on the door cuts off whatever Dustin is gearing up to say next. The smart-ass look melts away only to be replaced by a raising of one eyebrow in Steve's direction. Bewilderingly, he straightens up and puffs out his chest.

Is that a smirk?

"Yeah, mom?" Dustin asks, tone of voice at odds with the air he is giving off.

"I wanted to let you boys know there's hot chocolate waiting in the kitchen."

"Thanks, mom!"

Dustin waves his arms at the door.

"See?" he whispers.

"See what?"

"Oh, and Steve, honey, there are some cookies for you."

His mouth falls open.

He clears his throat, ignoring the smug kid in front of him. At this point, it shouldn't surprise him. Just like her hugs and her _honeys_ and all her generally kind acts.

He doesn't think he'll ever stop reacting to it, though.

"Thanks, Mrs. H. We're just about done."

"Yeah, awesome timing!"

"Alright, you two finish up. No rush, the drinks aren't going anywhere."

Her footsteps grow quiet as she leaves, presumably heading back to the kitchen.

"She never makes cookies for Mike or Will or Lucas when she knows they're coming over."

"Well, if that's my only competition --"

"Don't even --"

"I guess I can see why she likes me best."

Dustin shoves his arm. All at once, he loses the attitude. Steve thinks he might get whiplash from the rollercoaster ride that is this kid's personality.

There are moments where the realization that his future looks completely different than it had just six months ago would drag him down. He can barely walk under the weight of it. Some days it takes everything in him to stay afloat in a world that is no longer upside down but maybe under water.

Then Dustin calls his house and begs for a ride to the arcade. Or convinces him that he should drive the whole Party to and from school in the weeks leading up to winter break. And suddenly he can breathe, buoyed by this kid that he'd hardly known a few months ago.

He throws his arm around Dustin's shoulders. Maybe holds him tighter than the situation calls for. Two arms wrap firmly around his waist and he figures it's probably fine.

"Hot chocolate and cookies sound pretty good."

"Yeah."

Dustin nods against his chest, still mindful of his hair.

"Come on, kiddo," he says, patting Dustin's back. "Hot chocolate waits for no man."

*

The kitchen smells fantastic. He doesn't know how he missed the fresh-baked aroma when he first came in. The chocolate from the hot cocoa blends with cookies straight from the oven. It feels like Christmas.

"Is that my Dustin?" Mrs. Henderson asks from her seat at the table. Her body is almost shaking and she bounces in place. It looks like she is trying her best to keep from doing anything embarrassingly mom-ish, like pinching his cheeks. "You're so handsome!"

"Isn't he?" Steve chuckles and pinches one of Dustin's cheeks himself.

"What're you -- get off!"

His glare holds no power compared to the absolute delight radiating from his mom. She quickly hides her smile behind a large ceramic mug.

It proves unnecessary with how Dustin keeps his stink eye fixed firmly on Steve until they're holding their own mugs. He swears the smell alone could thaw the coldest of hearts.

Maybe he can test that one day. Bring a thermos of it back to the house while his parents are home. Note any significant changes in behavior. For science.

He's spending too much time with nerds.

"Marshmallows are on the table."

Mrs. Henderson pushes a bowl filled to the brim with marshmallows closer to them. Dustin wastes no time, grabbing a handful as soon as it's in front of them.

"Thank you," Steve says, picking out a few to add to his drink.

"That's all you put in your cocoa?"

Dustin looks and sounds more offended than it calls for. As if Steve just told him he didn't know what the hell a Millenium Falcon was. He knows from experience, having said exactly that one of the days Dustin came to check on him.

"Unlike you, I actually like some chocolate with my marshmallows."

"Don't forget your cookies, honey. I didn't know your favorite, so I made a few."

Steve swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. He hadn't even noticed the open container. Cookies are piled inside, different flavors and colors all mixed together. He picks one up slowly. Too slowly, he knows, but it takes some concentration to keep from doing something ridiculous like shaking or tearing up over some _cookies_.

He clears his throat as quietly as he can.

"They look great."

She smiles, though he doesn't think she ever stopped. It sticks around even when she shoos Dustin's hand from the container.

"Hey," he pouts.

"Those are Steve's. I put the extras on the counter."

As he stands to get some, Dustin _looks_ at him. The same pointed look from earlier.

Steve ignores him again, biting into his cookie. Still warm in the middle, it melts in his mouth. He just manages to hold back the appreciative sound that wants to come out.

"This might be the best cookie I've ever had," he tells her sincerely. It isn't even an exaggeration. Besides a few times when kids brought in cookies for birthdays or around the holidays, he doesn't have homemade cookies. And never, that he can remember at least, made specifically for him.

Mrs. Henderson blushes, cheeks going a soft pink. She shakes her head.

"No, really. Way better than what I usually eat," he shrugs, one side of his lips lifting in a half-smile. "Doesn't hurt that peanut butter is my favorite."

"Well, I'm glad you like them. Hopefully the others are just as good."

"The double chocolate is my favorite," Dustin chimes in. There is a line of chocolate over his top lip.

Steve snorts, nudging his arm.

"I'll keep that in mind."

They fall quiet while they finish their drinks. It's comfortable, though. More comfortable than the deafening silence of his house. There is the soft chewing of their snack, little sighs after another sip of cocoa. He wouldn't mind sitting there for another hour.

Maybe another day.

"Just about time, man."

Both Hendersons turn to look at the clock on the wall.

"Shoot!"

Dustin stands so fast his chair bounces.

"Careful," Steve says, pulling the kid's mostly empty mug away.

"Just gotta get my shoes!"

Then he's off. Thankfully his hair seems like it's going to hold just fine.

"Thank you, again, for taking him. He's so excited."

"Dustin, excited? I don't believe it."

She laughs. It is a great laugh.

"Really, though. You've been good for him."

Steve gives a jerky shrug, but nods.

"You're welcome. He's..."

He takes a breath, slow and steady. Words, especially the important ones, are hard to get out. But he wants to say them. Put them out in the world, let Mrs. Henderson hear them. They can hold so much weight. And maybe she won't think much of them. Most people hear good things all the time. But Steve doesn't. So, just in case they mean something to her, he makes himself say them.

"He's a good kid and he's been... You've both been amazing. You might..," he looks down and watches his finger trace the rim of his mug. "You're probably the best people I know. So, just. I think he's good for me, too. The brother I never had, or something."

She doesn't say anything right away. In the silence, his shoulders draw up to his ears. His heart is in his throat, hands clenching his mug when he hears the chair move.

All of the tension melts away when she wraps him up in a hug. Tighter than earlier, but no less gentle. Still mindful of recently healed injuries. It's easy to let go of the cup and return the hug. Bit by bit, every time it happens, it becomes easier to fall into. He still doesn't think he'll ever stop being surprised by it, though. No one else that he knows gives hugs out this freely.

"I know you haven't been in our lives all that long yet," she says softly, his hair moving with the words. She pressed a quick kiss to his head and he's glad she can't see the look on his face. "But I also happen to know that you're stuck with us, now."

She pulls away and cups his face in her hands.

"We love you, too, honey."

They've only known each other for a handful of weeks. She walked into his hospital room just a step behind Dustin, the day after El closed the Gate. Surprised the hell out of him; when Hopper convinced him to get checked out at the hospital, he hadn't thought anyone noticed or cared.

Being proven wrong had never felt so good.

Now, weeks later, he wonders if it was wrong to be so attached so quickly. He'd done the same thing when he first got Nancy to give him a chance. He might be incapable of _not_ latching on to people like this.

His vision goes a little blurry as his eyes well up. Maybe he should be more hesitant to accept her words. And he would be, if they had come from anyone else. She has no reason to lie. Not when she isn't obligated to say them in the first place.

This is also the first time the other person seems just as attached, just as fast. She understood what he was saying without him using the words. Hopefully things with the Hendersons work out better than the rest of his relationships. Because he wouldn't stop caring about them even if he could. It might not stick, but he'd rather have them for a little while than not have known them at all.

"Now," she says, patting his cheeks and giving him a little nod. "How about I pack up these cookies for you to take home? Dustin's probably found those shoes by now."

His face is warm, tingling where her hands had been holding him. He sniffs, rubbing his napkin under his nose as casually as he can.

"Sounds great."

He watches her for a moment before standing up. His heart swells, beyond grateful for this family. Who else would practically take in some teenager just because her son liked him?

He never would have guessed any of this would happen the day Dustin dragged him into searching for his demo-dog. Know where it's led, so far, he'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

But there would be time to marvel over it all later. Now he better go make sure Dustin hasn't gotten sidetracked.

*

"Pictures!"

Steve smiles, unsurprised that Dustin reacts with the same enthusiasm to his mom's request as he does to everything else. He doesn't know much from personal experience, but he can't imagine anyone else he knows being happy for their parents to take a million and one photos before a dance.

"Now a couple with both of you," Mrs. Henderson says, waving her arm at Steve.

"Oh no, I don't think --"

Dustin pulls him over before can finish his sentence and Steve sighs a little. He can't deny feeling touched over being included. These pictures will probably end up displayed somewhere in the house, the way so many featuring Dustin - and some with the Party - already are. So even though he was originally only there to help the kid get ready and drive him to school, he doesn't mind being dragged into taking a picture or twelve first. The novelty might wear off eventually, but he lets himself feed off of Dustin's excitement for tonight.

"Okay, you boys better head out. Don't want to be too late."

She walks them to the door before hugging Dustin.

"Love you, have fun!"

"Love you, too," he says, giving her that wide grin they both share.

Then she hugs Steve, patting his back. He returns it with a smile of his own.

When she steps back, she picks up the container of cookies she'd left sitting by the door.

"Don't forget these. I know you're going out after the dance. If it's late when you get back, you're welcome to stay the night, honey."

"Thanks, Mrs. H."

"Drive safe, I'll see you later, okay?"

He nods, holding the cookies close. "Have a good night."

"C'mon, let's go!" Dustin says, hurrying to the car.

Steve shakes his head.

"Night, Mrs. H," he says, waving goodbye. He follows Dustin to the car, setting the cookies in the backseat before climbing in.

"Seat belt."

"I'm not twelve, Steve."

"And I'm not starting the car until you're wearing your seat belt."

Dustin rolls his eyes, but buckles in.

"Ready for this?"

Dustin nods and they both wave to his mom as they pull away.

"Thanks for helping me out."

"Don't sweat it, kid. Just don't tell anyone, it'll kill my reputation."

He winks and laughs along when Dustin can't hold it in anymore.

In a couple minutes he'll drop Dustin off at the dance, maybe give him a bit of a pep talk because he looks more nervous the closer they get. Some better, less bitter advice than he'd given him before. Because he likes this kid. Loves him even, would fight demo-dogs and bullies for him and his friends.

Maybe he hadn't grown up with any younger siblings, but it doesn't matter anymore. He seems to have acquired one all on his own and he doesn't plan to give him up for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> omg, a new fic? For a new fandom? I will forever be grateful to the Stranger Things (and Steve Harrington) fandom for igniting my desire to write (and then share) fic again.
> 
> Part of the reason it took so long is that I originally wrote it all in past tense and idk, it bugged me. So I've gone back and rewritten it and I like it much better.


End file.
